had been musing. The course suggested was, according to Viglius, but "a
plaster for a wound, but a drag-chain for the wheel." He urged that the
convocation of the states-general was the only remedy for the perils in
which the country was involved; unless the King should come in person.
He however expressed the hope that by general consultation some means
would be devised by which, if not a good, at least a less desperate
aspect would be given to public affairs, "so that the commonwealth, if
fall it must, might at least fall upon its feet like a cat, and break its
legs rather than its neck."

Notwithstanding this highly figurative view of the subject; and
notwithstanding the urgent representations of Duchess Margaret to her
brother, that nobles and people were all clamoring about the necessity of
convening the states general, Philip was true to his instincts on this as
on the other questions. He knew very well that the states-general of the
Netherlands and Spanish despotism were incompatible ideas, and he
recoiled from the idea of the assembly with infinite aversion. At the
same time a little wholesome deception could do no harm. He wrote to the
Duchess, therefore, that he was determined never to allow the states-
general to be convened. He forbade her to consent to the step under any
circumstances, but ordered her to keep his prohibition a profound secret.
He wished, he said, the people to think that it was only for the moment
that the convocation was forbidden, and that the Duchess was expecting to
receive the necessary permission at another time. It was his desire, he
distinctly stated, that the people should not despair of obtaining the
assembly, but he was resolved never to consent to the step, for he knew
very well what was meant by a meeting of the States-general. Certainly
after so ingenuous but secret a declaration from the disciple of
Macchiavelli, Margaret might well consider the arguments to be used
afterward by herself and others, in favor of the ardently desired